


as dumb as you are pretty

by seemeinacrown



Category: American Horror Story: 1984
Genre: 9x02, Abuse, Blackmail, Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reference to drugs/drug addiction, Sexual Abuse, Sorry idk this got dark and sad and very introspective, Xavier POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemeinacrown/pseuds/seemeinacrown
Summary: A short divergence from Xavier and Blake's conversation in the car in 9x02. Please read the tags! Xavier may be pretty, but this fic isn't.





	as dumb as you are pretty

“My boys never call me that.”

_‘My boys_.’ It was all he could do not to retch. “Fine.” Xavier shifted in his seat. “What the hell, _daddy_?” It felt especially obscene to say when he hadn’t even called anyone _dad_ in a decade.

He knew it was a bad idea to talk like that to someone with so much power. It was always his fucking attitude, his spite, that got him into trouble. Always had to be right. And it had cost him many, many times in the past.

Xavier grimaced as Blake gripped his chin, large fingers digging into his cheeks. “You know better than to act up, don’t you, you little slut?” Any semblance of amusement had drained from Blake’s face, and Xavier steeled his own.

“Yes,” he managed to spit out. Blake shoved his face away as he removed his hand. Always so rough.

“You’re coming back with me. That pretty little ass belongs in LA. Working for _me_.”

“Fuck, no,” Xavier whispered, looking down at his lap. Shivers crept up his spine, threatening to take over his whole body. “I’m done with that shit.”

Blake _tsk_’d unpleasantly. “So pretty, and so, so stupid.” He reached down and grabbed Xavier’s cock through his pants, making him jump and wince. “I decide when you’re done, is that clear?”

“No!” It came out as a desperate, strangled cry that turned into a stifled cough when Blake wrapper his other hand around Xavier’s throat. Xavier was blinking as hard as he could but tears were somehow still making their way down his face. He stayed frozen as Blake took his hand from Xavier’s pants and gently, _sickeningly_ sweetly, wiped the tears from his face. It was no use though; they were falling faster and faster, and there was no way Blake would ever catch them all. He gave Xavier’s throat a final squeeze before leaning back again.

“Yes, baby doll. Unless...” he paused for dramatic effect, reaching into his bag and pulling out a tape that he dangled just out of Xavier’s reach. Xavier’s eyes widened, his tears stopping momentarily while his breath hitched in his throat. He whispered a stream of _no_’s while Blake continued. “...you want me to make a few copies of this, hand them out to your little counselors up here? Or sell them at the studio, that’s a good idea.”

All Xavier could do was shake his head, mouth moving to form words he couldn’t quite place. He settled on one word. “Please.” It was so fucking _pathetic_; he was good at sounding broken. Blake had told him it was part of what made him so appealing. _So vulnerable, so innocent, so young_. But _fuck_, he wasn’t. He wanted to scream, at Blake, from the rooftops of the cabins and off the highest buildings in LA. He was strong, he could take care of himself. No one bossed him around. People wanted him, but most importantly, they couldn’t _have_ him.

Well, some people could. Blake had made sure of that. But he was nobody’s _bitch_, and yet no matter how many times he told that to himself, he found himself feeling like this time and time again. Small, pliant, and stupid.

Blake shook his head. “This is not up for negotiation, sweetheart, and I’m not playing games here.”

Xavier’s lip trembled, and Blake rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ll give you a week to decide, how about that? Get to know your little campers, think about what they’d think of you if they saw this.” He waved the tape around again. “You can meet me here, same time.” He brushed Xavier’s hair back, and it was all Xavier could do to breathe. “Understand?”

He swallowed, lips tight, and nodded.

“What was that?” Blake had his hand in Xavier’s hair now, pulling back threateningly.

“Yes...._daddy_.” He squirmed, but Blake wasn’t letting up on his grip. “Now let me go, they’ll wonder where I am.” Xavier was already working on his composure; there was no way he was letting any of his friends see him is such a state.

“No, no, we’re not done just yet.”

Xavier knew Blake was feeding off of the fear in his eyes that had just intensified exponentially, but he couldn’t help it. He’d be nervous with Blake anywhere, let alone in a car in the middle of the fucking woods.

“It was so nice of me to give you a week to decide, wasn’t it?” His words were gentle, but his face was contorted with anger. Blake waited for Xavier to answer, and when he whispered _yes_, Blake continued. “That’s right, sweetheart. And you know how good boys say ‘thank you,’ don’t you? You’re not _that_ dumb.”

Xavier practically screamed as he started to sob, clawing at Blake’s hand in his hair and at the door handle. He was supposed to be _done_ with this shit, running and hiding from it on an idyllic lake instead of getting cornered here instead.

“You open that door and I won’t just make a few copies of this tape, I’ll make sure your face and name are plastered all over your little studio and down every back alley of the whole _fucking _city.”

Xavier quit his scrambling, sitting still but chest heaving, and nodded. He didn’t think he could speak if he tried.

Blake leaned back, spreading his legs slightly in Xavier’s direction. “I know you know what to do.”

Xavier nodded, tears still silently streaming down his face and hands trembling as they worked Blake’s pants open, tentatively leaning forward.

“There we go.” Blake gripped the base of Xavier’s neck and forced him down, sighing. “I knew you were still my good boy. Always will be, baby.”

\--------------- 

The showers were empty when Xavier had finally made his way back, legs quivering, jacket clenched tightly around himself. He triple checked all the stalls before stripping, almost falling twice while trying to take his pants off, and stumbling into a shower. Automatically, he reached out to turn the water on. He couldn’t really tell if it was hot or cold; all that mattered was that he was alone, getting drenched, letting the water dull his senses and feelings, getting lost in the rush of water that was the only thing he could hear.

Xavier stood with his hands wrapped around his arms for a few minutes, before his hands started roaming, feeling his arms, shoulders, chest. He grimaced and choked out the first of another round of sobs, digging his nails into his shoulders deeply. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it for the pain or just to feel something on his body that was his _own_ fucking doing. Something he’d see in the mirror and have an explanation for.

He crouched down, wanted to make himself as small as he felt, but knowing the floor was probably filthy. His back found the wall of the shower stall, and he shivered.

_I’m not fucking gay_. He swayed on the balls of his feet, and as desperately as he tried not to, all he could see in his head were slow-motion images of his first, what was supposed to be his _only_, favor to Blake. Maybe it had felt good for a moment or two, but that was because he’d focused on the fact that that night he’d have a fucking warm bed to sleep in.

Xavier choked, then spit, suddenly aware of Blake’s taste in his mouth. He stood, turning his mouth towards the faucet and letting his mouth fill and drain repeatedly until he felt like he might drown. Then he turned the water off, realizing too late that he’d never had the chance to get his towel. Shivering, he grabbed his shirt and dried off as best he could before dressing into damp clothes. _Whatever_. It didn’t even matter if he had a towel, if his clothes were wet, if he’d forgotten to pack his own soap. He’d be gone in a week anyway, back in LA and doing things that would make him wish he was back in that fucking park, deliriously high, broke and strung out but alone, fucking _alone_.


End file.
